Grass & Honey
by epic win
Summary: "Even Colin knew that thinking about the softness of another boy's lips wasn't particularly normal, but he thought about it anyway." LinkxColin fluff.


Title: Grass & Honey

Series: Legend of Zelda, Twilight Princess

Pairing: Link & Colin

Notes: I wanted to make this so much more citrusy- but alas, apparently Link is such a wholesome hero that anything more than this just seemed so, so wrong XD

Colin spent a lot of time with Link. When they weren't together, Link was all he thought of.

Was it normal? Probably not. But Colin was young, and his town was small, so "normal" didn't have much meaning anyway. He would worry about that later in life, after he learned about social constructs and ostracization and all of the other bars to the cage of adult life.

For now, he was content to sit on the edge of everyday life and think about Link.

Link didn't talk much. That's probably why Colin was drawn to him in the first place—whereas most people tsk-tsk'd and lectured and cautioned him, Link just listened. And when he did speak, it always meant so much. Link only said the things that mattered. And being so silent gave weight to everything else he did—a smile, a touch, a laugh, all had meaning behind it.

Colin collected those little things. At the end of the day, as he was falling asleep, he counted his treasures of the day. During the herding, Link had looked to him on his newly acquired filly and laughed. Immediately after he had smiled softly, to let Colin know the laugh hadn't been malicious. After lunch, when Colin had dropped a pumpkin, Link had patted him lightly on the back. And best of all, when Colin had brought Link a piece of pumpkin pie after dinner, he'd said "Thanks."

Closing his eyes, Colin meditated on the memory. How smoothly all the sounds had blended together; how Link had dropped the "s" a little. He always did that. And how perfectly soft Link's lips had looked as he said it.

Even Colin knew that thinking about the softness of another boy's lips wasn't particularly normal, but he thought about it anyway and fell asleep with a warmth spreading through him.

He hadn't meant to break the sword. He wasn't even playing with it—he was just trying to keep it away from that terror, Talo. But meaning to or not, the sword his father had just begun working on ended up in pieces on the floor, and nice as his father normally was, he chased Colin out of the house. Colin couldn't keep the tears in, and as he ran out the door, he saw Talo smirking. It only made him cry harder.

He ran to Link's house, of course. He didn't dare climb the ladder and knock on the door—Link was _his_ best friend, but Link was older and mature. Who knew if kids that age even had best friends? Colin didn't know, and so he crouched in the tall grass by Epona's back legs and wept as quietly as he could.

Link heard, of course. In the back of his mind, Colin wondered if he had come here on purpose, knowing that Link would discover him. But he remained still in the grass, half-heartedly trying to stay hidden.

"Colin?" Link's voice echoed from the landing of his treehouse.

Colin's got chills at hearing his own name come out of Link's mouth. Did Link know it was him? Could he smell him, perhaps? See a bit of his clothing? Or… could Colin's name possibly have been the first one that jumped into Link's head? Colin's heart raced at the thought.

Link started climbing down the ladder, jumping off midway. He landed with a thud right next to where Colin was crouched, and, kneeling, parted the grass like a curtain, revealing Colin's face.

They stared at one another. Colin's face was tear-streaked, and he had the hiccups. Link's face was curious and bemused. He said nothing.

Colin was used to speaking without being prompted, around Link. He offered up the explanation before Link so much as took a breath to speak.

"I b-broke my dad's sword… and he's p-pretty mad. He chased me—out—" The end of the sentence was punctuated with gasps, as Colin had begun to cry again. Link put his arm around Colin's shaking shoulder, and led him over to the ladder. Letting go, he gave a short nod of his head in the direction of his cabin, telling Colin to climb up.

Even though he had made the climb hundreds of times before, Colin's trembling legs slipped on a rung near the top, and Link shot out a hand to steady it. His skin on Colin's bare ankle felt like fire, and Colin scrambled the rest of the way. His breathing was ragged, but not, he suspected, just from crying.

Once inside, Link made Colin a mug of hot milk tea as was popular in their village, and they both fell into the chairs around the wooden table. Colin poured out his story, and Link listened. At the end of the story, he said nothing, only poured Colin another cup of tea. For once, Colin couldn't stand the silence, and so he blurted out,

"Can I stay here tonight?"

Link's eyebrows shot up. In all the time they'd known each other, Colin had never stayed the night at Link's—or at anybody's, really. When everyone lived so close together, there was just no reason to sleep at somebody else's house.

Link opened his mouth, hesitated—Colin knew he wrestling with whether or not to tell him to go home and be responsible—but after a moment, said, "Of course you can. But only if you help me finish up today's chores."

The last part was said with a smile. And it finally coaxed Colin out of crying—instead, a wide grin spread across his face, and he leapt out of his chair. "Race you to the spring!"

Four hours later, they stumbled back into Link's house, exhausted. They had collected firewood, tended to the vegetable garden, fished for and prepared dinner, and finally, bathed Epona (and themselves) in the spring. (The bathing had been awkward, but only to Colin. For whatever reason, he had found himself suddenly aware of Link's flawless skin, and felt embarrassed the entire time.)

Colin flung himself to the cool wooden floor. "I could fall asleep right here," he said, his voice muffled from being pressed against the wood.

Link laughed, but cut off rather abruptly. Colin lifted his head to find that Link had a worried look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I usually sleep in the loft. But… it's kind of small. We could—"

"No!" Colin interrupted, surprisingly forcefully. "I mean, that's fine. I don't take up a lot of space…" His sentence trailed off, and he was afraid to meet Link's eye. _What is going on with me?_ he thought, almost missing Link's smile and quiet "okay."

The loft was up two more ladders, and Link let him go first on each. When he reached the top, he was struck by two things—how lovely the moonlight looked, streaming in from the window, and how easy it would be to roll right off the edge. Gulping, he turned to face Link, and said meekly, "Can I sleep against the wall?"

Both boys got a good laugh out of that, and Link tossed down a sleeping pallet and a couple of blankets. Spring in Ordon meant hot, sweaty days but chillingly cold nights. Still, Link stripped himself down to only his loose-fitting capri pants. Colin took off his outer wrappings but left his white tunic on. Suddenly he felt embarrassed by how young he was—he was still wearing the longish tunic underneath his clothing that both Ordian boys and girls wear, instead of the britches and loose shirts the men of the village wore. He vowed to ask his mother to make him some when he returned home.

Link waited until Colin had crawled under the blankets before he blew out the candle, plunging them both into the darkness. Colin's eyes took a long time to adjust, and so he saw nothing as Link hung the candle on the wall and slipped into bed next to the younger boy.

He was right about it being a small space—Colin was curled up into a ball next to the wall, and yet Link's limbs still brushed against him. Colin took a deep breath, loud in the stillness of night, and was filled with Link's scent. This was one of Colin's favorite things about him, and here in the confined sleeping space, he could pick out exactly what it was—grass and honey. How well it suited him.

A few silent minutes went by. Colin tried to remain perfectly still.

"Link… are you awake?"

Link shuffled around next to him. "Mhm."

"My mom… she usually sings to me before we go to sleep." Colin's voice was so small and low that he almost hoped Link wouldn't hear him—but in the tiny space, it was perfectly audible.

Colin expected Link to laugh, or to say that he didn't know any songs. But to his surprise, Link turned on his side to face Colin, and started humming.

There were no words, but it was a beautiful melody. Colin had heard him singing it often to Epona. It was sweet, but somehow overwhelmingly nostalgic.

It took mere moments for Colin to fall asleep, listening to that song. Right as he was drifting into unconsciousness, he thought he felt Link gathering him up close and putting his arms around him. But he had dreamed the same thing plenty of times before, and only the sweet scent of honey and grass made this time any different.


End file.
